To Live with Wolves
by Aberolingarn
Summary: Percy Jackson has been dumped in the middle of Nowhere, California, and it's up the Melany to make sure he survives the summer. The odd thing, well, things, is that he's just a little too old to only just be learning about the whole demigod thing, and he can't remember any of his life before he showed up in Melany's home. And the oddities keep piling up. What's going on here?
1. Prologue

**A/N: Here it is, just like I promised! Welcome all of you who are new as well as those who have awaited this since I cut off _Surviving Camp Survival_. And, I can, for the most part, guarantee that from this point forward, updates will be a regular occurrence. If they aren't, feel free to nag me as much as you like, and I will get my friends at school to do the same. Welcome back to the wacky world of gods and monsters, please enjoy your stay, but remember: What you think you remember might not be what really happened.**

* * *

It is an exhilarating feeling, running through the forest at near inhuman speeds, a bow clenched in one hand, heart beating in time to the quiver of arrows bouncing on her back. Melany breathes deeply as she jumps a fallen log, all of her senses attuned to the surrounding woodlands and the white-furred hindquarters of a deer flashing in and out of her field of vision. She calls out to her companions, the grey-furred wolves who are flanking her, and increases her pace. The pack circles around to cut off the deer's escape, and Melany pulls an arrow from her quiver. The deer stumbles over a branch, and she takes the chance to shoot, sliding into a stance as it struggles to its feet. Just as she is about to release the arrow, another figure stumbles into the small clearing and also into her line of fire. Melany's eyes widen, and she jerks her bow up at the last second, sending the arrow whizzing into the trees. She drops the bow as she runs forward, hand moving to the hilt of her sword instead. Before she can demand answers, an angry shout heralds the arrival of another person. Or monster, Melany amends, taking in the pair of snake tails that is where the newcomer's legs should be. The boy that the dracaenae has been chasing is sucking in terrified gasps of air, his back to a tree and a long branch held in front of him as a makeshift weapon.

"Don't you have a sword?" Melany shouts to him, drawing her own just in time to parry the dracaena's first strike. It hisses at her, its already ugly face twisting into a snarl at being robbed of its prey.

"Are you crazy?!" Melany doesn't answer. Loss of focus could mean her death here. A second thrust, and another matching strike from her own blade, this time using the momentum from the to launch her own attack. The pack has been closing in, the sounds of the fight drawing them away from the escaped deer. The first two to enter the clearing are young and impulsive, throwing themselves into the fray at the first sight of the dracaenae, and barely giving Melany enough time to roll out of the way. The rest of the dozen or so furred hunters close in around the site, and Melany leaves matters in their more than capable paws.

Pointedly ignoring the dracaenae's cries of pain, Melany now approaches the boy. He has slumped down at the bottom of the tree, and every breath he takes seems to be a battle against hysteria. Melany sheaths her sword and crouches in front of him. "Are you injured?" He shakes his head. "Can you stand?"

"I don't know," he admits. A final shriek pierces the air, and the dracaenae falls silent. "I've been running from that thing since yesterday." He certainly looks worse for wear.

Melany nods, gauging the time of day from the sun high overhead. She has lost track of how long she's been hunting- a habit she really needs to break. It's just after two in the afternoon. "I'll take you back to my place." He shakes his head.

"I have to get home."

Melany frowns. "You can't. It's not safe." He gives her an indignant look. "There could be more of those things out there. You don't want to endanger your family, do you?" She rises and holds her hand out to help him as well.

"What makes you think I would?" he demands as Melany hauls him to his feet.

"Because you reek like a demigod, and more monsters will be coming after you." He stops moving. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'reek like a demigod'? I've seen some weird stuff, but you can't expect me to believe something like that." Melany looks him hard in the eye.

"You're not going to believe what I'm about to tell you. You'll think I'm crazy, and you won't want anything to do with it. But you don't have a choice. Whether you like it or not, this is your world now."

"What are you talking about?" he shouts in frustration.

"Everything you've ever heard about the Roman gods is real, kid." His eyes go wide. "All of the myths actually happened, and one of your parents is a Roman god or goddess."

"That's not possible!"

Melany snorts. "According to popular belief, neither was that dracaenae, nor is the fact that I live with and speak to wolves. But, it happened, and it's true. You are a demigod whether you like it or not." She scoops up her bow, checking to make sure there is no damage. "You seem to be a bit old to only just be finding out about all of this, though. How old are you?"

He opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, a panicked frown on his face.

"What's wrong?"

He speaks haltingly. "My name is Percy." Melany shrugs.

"And?"

"And I can't remember any more than that."

The only reply Melany can think of is: "Well that's not good."


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Chapter 1 is here, just like I promised. If you like (or don't like) what you see, please review and tell me what and why- I'm always looking to improve my writing skills. Let the fun continue!**

* * *

Melany and Percy stumble through the last row of trees just as a loud crash echoes through the clearing. This is followed by a string of highly creative curses, and Melany sighs as she leads Percy over to a large stone pavilion. "Welcome to Wolf House." Percy looks around, an awed look on his face as he takes in the Roman architecture. "Don't look too much like a tourist." Melany jokes, and his mouth shuts with an audible click.

"You live here?"

"Sometimes." She moves towards the front of the building, and Percy follows, eyes taking in everything around the clearing with unadulterated curiosity and amazement. "It gets drafty in winter, so Catherine and I stay in a cabin a few miles away."

"Who's Catherine? One of the wolves?"

Melany laughs. "No, she's the blacksmith." They enter the building, Percy still asking questions and Melany doing her best to answer. Where are they? Northern California. How long has she lived here? As long as she can remember. What is her favorite color? Blue. Do you have any idea who I may be? Melany doesn't answer as they pass through what appears to be a large dining hall and enter a much smaller chamber. It is dimly lit, with torches in brackets high up on the walls, and a large furnace at the far end. Racks of weapons line the walls, and tools are scattered on two large worktables. A door in the corner is open, and sunlight is streaming in through it. "Catherine?" Melany calls.

"What?" the voice comes in from outside.

"Get back in here!" Melany shouts. "I have someone for you to meet!"

"Did Amazon finally bring the Imperial Gold I ordered?"

"You know those girls hate coming here. Why do you keep ordering from them?"

"'Cause it's fun to piss them off!" After this last statement, a girl much shorter than Melany appears in the doorway. Her clothes seem to be a toss-up between a high school athlete- running pants and a t-shirt- and a construction worker- tool belt, steel-toed boots, and safety glasses. Her hair is black, but color streaks through it in neon swatches to be lost in abundant curls which are, in turn, pulled back into a very complex braid. Her eyes, Percy is startled to notice, are a bright purple. She smiles at him, and he shakes off the funny feeling that seeing those eyes causes. "So, what's your name?"

"Percy."

"Nice to meet ya. I'm Catherine." They shake hands, and Percy notes the rough calluses that must be from work in the forge. He lets out a startled shout as Catherine starts feeling up and down his shirt and pants, sniffing at him.

"What are you doing!?" she looks up at him with big… blue… eyes, and Percy begins to wonder if she's even human.

"You've got a magic item with you. Where is it?""

Percy laughs nervously, slowly backing away. "You're crazy." Melany puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Melany.."

"Calm down. She may go about it in an odd way, but she's never wrong when enchantments. Don't worry- she only bites if she's really pissed off. Usually." Catherin stands up, a strange gleam in her now green eyes.

"Can you turn out your pockets? I think it's a transformation spell." More from fear that she will try to do it herself if he doesn't comply that an actual desire to do so, Percy complies, retrieving some lint, thirty-seven cents in nickels and pennies, a soda can tab, and an old-fashioned ballpoint pen. It appears to be made out of brass, and is heavier than it looks. Percy isn't sure how he didn't notice its presence sooner. Catherine looks to him for permission, and he offers her the pen. Her eyes go wide with awe, the grey orbs taking every detail of the seemingly harmless writing utensil. "This is amazing."

Percy blinks, now even more convinced that something is wrong with Catherine's mental state. "It's a pen." She smiles.

"It only looks like a pen, Percy. It's actually a deadly weapon."

"It's a pen," he repeats. "It's a pen, the both of you are crazy, and this is a horrible dream that I'm going to wake up from any minute now, because there's no way any of what has happened today is real." Melany and Catherine exchange looks before bursting into laughter.

"He thinks it's all a dream!" Catherine hoots. "Seven years of hell, and he thinks he's dreaming." Her eyes lock on Percy, now black as night, and before the other two can so much as blink, a glittering sword is being leveled at Percy's throat. "You would do well to watch your tongue. You never know what people will take offense at." She lowers the sword and looks at it critically. "Balance is good, but it's not a Roman design. Catch." She tosses it, and in a move that looks to be purely reflexive, Percy snatches it out of the air, twirling it twice before bringing it to rest at his side.

"What…"

Catherine smirks. "You may not remember, but you know how to use it." She turns and opens the door of the furnace. "Get lost- I'm busy." Percy stands open-mouthed as Catherine shovels coal into the furnace until Melany leads him away.

"Well done, kelp-for-brains." Melany says as they re-enter the main hall. "It took you less than ten minutes to piss her off. I think you set a new record." Percy stares at the sword still clenched in his right hand. The weapon has set something tingling in the back of his mid, but he can't quite place it. Then Melany's insult registers, and he turns, startled by the emotion it invokes.

"What did you just call me?" Melany snorts.

"I said that you have seaweed for brains."

The niggling feeling grows stronger, and a name works free of the mud that his memories have become. "Annabeth…"

"Who? What?"

"Annabeth called me that." Melany is now genuinely interested. It's the first thing he's been able to say about his past, small though the victory may be.

"Who's Annabeth? Your sister? Your girlfriend?"

Percy tries to remember, but the harder he thinks, the muddier it all seems to become, and a headache starts building behind his temples. "I don't know." A sharp pain lances through his skull, and he stumbles. Melany is startled, and she moves forward to support him.

"Are you ok? What happened?"

He pushes her off, feeling unreasonably mad at her for her questions, at Catherine for her behavior, and at himself for not being able to remember. "I don't know! Gods damn it. I just don't know!"

"Be watchful of whose names you use to curse, Perseus." Both of them look to the entrance of the hall, and Melany falls to one knee at the sight of a large grey wolf. "And try not to let Catherine's abilities affect you so much. Melany, you should have warned him."

Melany flinches at the rebuttal. "Yes, mother." She stands back up and faces Percy. "Percy, this is Lupa, my mother in practice if not by blood." She smiles ruefully. "You dropped in in the middle of my coming of age ceremony, so to speak." Lupa sniffs and stalks over, all muscle and sinew under a glossy coat of long, grey fur.

"You will hunt again tomorrow, Melany. For now, go prepare a place for our guest to sleep." Melany bows in deference to the command before running out of the hall, leaving Percy at the mercy of the wolves.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the late update! The weekend was hell, and I lost the written copy several times before I managed to type and post this. I hope nobody's too mad at me, and I made this chapter a little longer to make up for it. My forgetful and procrastinating ways aside, enjoy!**

* * *

As Melany disappears around the door frame, Lupa walks over to where Percy is still standing holding his sword so tightly that his knuckles are white. Lupa gives as close to a grin as a wolf can manage. "Are you frightened of me, Perseus?"

He follows her movement with his eyes. "Just a little." Lupa stops several feet away and sits back on her haunches.

"You are a very interesting person, Perseus." Percy can't help but feel that the fierce yellow eyes now looking directly into his are piercing him to his very soul. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he tears his eyes away, and the she-wolf lets out a barking laugh. "Very interesting." She stands again. "You have no memory of yourself, is that correct?"

"Yeah." Lupa is circling him now, and his grip on his sword shifts slightly.

"You have no need of your weapon at present; it is not my intention to harm you."

"All the same, I think I'll hang on to it."

"As you wish." She turns to the entrance. "Follow me." They exit the pavilion, and Lupa leads him back across the clearing and through a thin screen of trees. On the far side is a large meadow with a small lake in the center. "This is our training ground." Percy feels that there is something missing, something blaringly obvious that he should see, but can't. "You are troubled by this?"

"Not, troubled, exactly." Percy struggles to find the words. "It's like déjà vu, almost; like I've heard someone else say the same thing to me. But I can't remember who or when. It's frustrating."

"The first step to understanding your problems is to acknowledge them. Now that you have done that, try to identify the source of your frustration."

Percy doesn't hesitate to answer. "Not Knowing." He brings his sword up in front of him, taking in the shining metal, the keen edge, and the strange symbols on the blade that he somehow knows read "Riptide". "I want to remember who I am, know why I'm here, and who stole my memories in the irst place." He looks back out to the meadow and realizes why it's so wrong. "It's too empty."

The Wolf grin s back on Lupa's face. "Only to the untrained eye." Percy looks at the meadow, really looks, and small things jump out at him. Movement in the lake, tree stumps that are far too uniform in size and spacing to be natural, and there, built into the side of a hill on the eastern edge of the field, a building with a set of double doors that are currently standing open. Once these register, more details begin to stand out until he is faced with a very well-camouflaged practice area, complete with training dummies and a bare patch of ground that might serve as a sparring ring. A small breeze goes past, and Percy swears that he can smell strawberries, even though there isn't a single plant in sight. "What do you think now?"

Percy is surprised at the choked up feeling in his throat. "It feels like home."

* * *

Melany has just finished setting up a screen between the place where she and Catherine sleep and where Percy's new bed will be when he and Lupa arrive, he carrying a double armload of prairie grass and she with a rather smug expression on her face. "Welcome to out humble abode." Melany bows dramatically. "Your spot's over there." she gesture. "And it seems that Lupa has already explained that you gather your own bedding."

"Yeah. I'm gonna have to go back for more." Melany moves to the back of the low-ceilinged room which is actually a small cave dug into the slop below the pavilion and lined with seasoned pine boards.

"I wouldn't bother. We've got more than enough skins to go around." She comes back with a large armful of what Percy realizes are real animal hides. "Sleep on top of three or four of them, pull one more on top for a blanket, and you'll be as snug as a fury in Hades." Percy is still rather wary of the whole thing.

"Do you do everything like you're pioneers from the 1700's?"

Melany laughs. "No, no. We just sleep like this out of personal preference. I tried a bed once, and couldn't fall asleep for the mattress's creaking." She nods to his side of the cavern, "spread your bedding there." Percy does, and Melany lays the furs on top. The result is an actually very comfortable-looking pad on the floor. The fur shines in the dim light, and the grass gives off a subtle earthy scent that freshens the air. "This is really the only thing besides the cooking and the smithy that's so simplistic. The outhouse is down this path here." She leads him back out and gestures. "The facilities are magicked so we don't have to worry about plumbing issues. Oh, and stay out of the wicker basket in the corner- it's girl stuff." Percy nods, his face slightly red. "Laundromat's on the far side of the same building- you'll do your own washing, and we buy clothes once every three months if we need them. We'll have to take you to a Wal-Mart sometime soon from the looks of it."

The light is failing, and Melany grins wryly. "What's that look for?"

"I was just thinking what a shame it is that I can't offer you meat with dinner tonight. Then I realized that it's your fault in the first place!"

Percy gives her an indignant look. "I didn't _ask_ to get chased by a snake monster; it just sort of happened." Melany makes a dismissive gesture.

"I really don't care one way or another; there's plenty enough to eat for one night.." She begins walking back up the incline that is the roof of the sleeping cavern. "Hurry up or Catherine won't leave any of the strawberries for us!" Percy jogs to catch up with her.

"Where do you get strawberries from? The climate here isn't right for growing them."

Melany gives him an odd look. "You study plants or something? But you're right, we get them shipped once a month from a place in New York. Delphi something-or-other, I think. All I know is that they are _heavenly_. Best strawberries I ever tasted." She smiles at him. "Who knows, maybe you're had them before- you've got a New York accent. That could be where you're from."

"I wouldn't doubt it." They arrive at the Pavilion entrance to see Catherine setting bowls of fruit, bread, and cheese on a low table with pillows scattered on the floor around it. Candles are glowing in and amongst the veritable feast, and a first is bringing in the center of the room. Melany toes her shoes off in the doorway before moving with surprising grace to settle on her side, lying across several of the cushions. Percy follows her example, though with much less decorum, and Catherine snickers as he slumps into a sitting position. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." she says with far too innocent an expression on her face for it to be the truth. Percy eyes her warily as he accepts a square, wooden platter from Melany, followed shortly by a bowl of water and a towel. She mimics washing her hands, and he does so, passing the basin on the Catherine when he's done. The older girl gives the blacksmith a stern look.

:No shenanigans during meals, Catherine. You know the rules."

"Your rules, you mean." Melany sighs and passes a dish of what appear to be fruit tartlets across the table after putting several on her own plate.

"We've had this conversation before, and it always ends the same way." Percy snatches two of the pastries just before Catherine whisks the plate away. "Whether you agree with me or not, the fact remains that you need to keep your powers under a tighter leash. They're too disruptive if you ignore them." Catherine rolls her eyes, and Percy takes the opportunity to speak.

"What powers? I get that you two must be demigods, otherwise you wouldn't have helped me with that monster, and you wouldn't be living out here, but what's so special about us? Other than being the children of gods, I mean."

Catherine shoots Melany a questioning glance. "Did you do something to him? I thought for sure he'd still be freaking out about the whole parental situation at least until the end of the week."

"I'm sitting right here." Percy tells her crossly, and she grins.

"I'm well aware." He feels a surge of anger, but Melany cuts him off with a curt command.

"Catherine, stop it. Percy, get a hold of yourself." She sighs. "Catherine's mother is the goddess Discordia. Every demigod inherits some of their godly parent's abilities, and, because of this, Catherine is able to stir up chaos, discord, at will. This includes, and is most certainly not limited to, 'bad luck' and affecting the emotions of those around her."

"What about your parent?" Melany seems uncomfortable, and Catherine speaks for her.

"Her father is Neptune, god of the seas." She sighs. "I don't see the problem, really, but apparently he's not very well-liked because of how bad the ancient Romans were at sea-faring, or some such nonsense. So now his kids are considered to be bad luck." She tears a roll of bread in half and dips a piece in honey before taking a bite.

"By who?" He has to wait for Catherine to swallow.

"Somewhere south of here there's a training camp, like a real one, for demigods- the place is huge- and Melany got kicked out of there when she was _born_ because people were scared of her." Melany raised a hand and cut her off.

"Lupa has raised me since I can remember, and I didn't stay in the city long enough to feel any attachment to it, but sometimes I wish I could meet my real mother." A heavy gloom settles over the meal, and nobody dares break the awkward silence until Catherine stands up and claps her hands.

"Enough of that. How about some music?" The two still seated nod, and she walks to a cabinet standing in the entryway and removes a cloth-wrapped object. She resumes her seat, and the wrapping is soon removed to reveal a lap harp, which she carefully tunes before letting her fingers wander over the strings, weaving pictures with the music. The rest of the evening is spent with laughter and fast-blooming friendship.


End file.
